Truth: Since my hysterectomy last year, I have gained 20 pounds and I’m not happy about how I feel.
If you know me at all (and by now, I think you do), you know that I struggle with the whole weight thing. In high school, someone called me Thick. In college, one of my roommates called me Wide. (Although I appreciate honesty, please know that these people have been eliminated from my circle.) I gained 80 pounds with my first pregnancy, and then I lost 93 pounds by combining Weight Watchers with lactation. I’m back up 40 pounds since then and most importantly: I used to own a Duncan Butterfly Yo-Yo, so I’m a bit of an expert.
You’re bored. I know you are. Here. Let’s speed things up a little: I’ve now reached the point where I don’t even want to leave the stinking house (it doesn’t really stink) because my clothes don’t fit and I’m constantly tired and my ankles feel creaky and unless I do something NOW, I’m going to go too far to get back home. (Figuratively. See sentence 4 of this paragraph. By the way, while I’m not leaving the stinking house, I would appreciate any advice you can offer on killing weeds that grow in flower beds. I’d prefer to go the natural way if possible, as long as the natural way doesn’t involve me bending over for six hours each day pulling dandelions and clover out of the ground, which is probably something that I SHOULD do, as evidenced by the very first sentence of this post.)
A few days back I reached out to a friend who is a certified holistic health coach. She sent a questionnaire to me and I filled it out and this morning we had a conversation via Skype. One week from today I’ll be kicking off a new routine and I’d like to take you with me. In other words, for the sake of accountability, I’d like to check in and let you know how it’s going for the next six months. Is that okay? (If it’s not okay, we need to figure some things out.)
This will not be a diet.
This will not be a hard core exercise adventure.
This will be me climbing a ladder and Kathy holding the bottom of it to make sure I don’t fall off. (That’s how she described it during our call, and I loved the image it conjured.)
This is me when I was in really good shape.
The adorable baby in that photo is my nephew, and he’ll be graduating from high school next year. (The photo was taken in 1999. He has doubled his height and can now speak in full witty sentences!) Anyway, my goal is to be comfortable in my own skin at his graduation, and that probably seems like a silly goal to you, but for me? It’s huge. (Disclaimer: Please know that I plan on wearing clothing to his graduation. As far as I know, being comfortable in JUST my skin wouldn’t be socially acceptable at a high school graduation ceremony. Some day I’ll tell you about the night of my own college graduation.)